The Dollop-heads' Guide To: Serendipitous Events & Fate
by Adelina Le Morte March
Summary: Modern AU: One magical night, Arthur has a chance meeting with both his future best friend and possible love of his life, Merlin and Gwen. Five years later, he's still got Merlin, but there's no Gwen in sight. Instead, he's engaged to a woman named Mithian. Unsure and having cold feet, Arthur sets out to find out who Gwen is and what exactly happened to her after that night. Arwen.
1. Cashmere Gloves

**A/N: My first modern Arwen (Arthur/Gwen)! I've seen people doing these and wanted to do one of my own. Please note, updates MAY be a bit on the slow side, since I am busy with other, more important, writing projects as of the moment. Anyway, this is inspired by and somewhat based on the movie _Serendipity_, as well as some snippets based on other similar romantic comedies, but done up Arwen style! Also, some Freylin (Merlin/Freya) thrown in as a side-pairing for good measure.**

**Obviously, AU. Hope you like it! **

THE BRASS BELLS on the glass storefront door jingled as Arthur Pendragon wedged his way in along with a young blonde woman and an older, more distinguished-looking brunette.

He almost couldn't get in at all. The last three times he tried, he got bumped out of the way by a pack of screaming, candy-cane brandishing children, whose tired-looking guardian, yawning and bobbing his head and muttering, "Yes, Lovey," every three seconds, did nothing to calm them down.

One of the beastly little brats had even hit him on the arm with their candy and then cried loudly when it broke in two. A middle-aged woman, standing nearby, looked at Arthur disdainfully, evidently thinking him a lout for having an arm so hard it would snap sweets in half and make a poor child sad.

Thankfully, the blonde was so busy jabbering on to the brunette that she didn't notice Arthur squeezing in there. "I love singing, you know," she prattled. "I sing all the time. My fiance says I have the voice of a fallen angel."

The brunette didn't reply. She just looked witheringly at the girl like she was a gnat she was going to have to swat before it bit her and ruined everything.

Of course the store was jam-packed with Christmas shoppers, the holidays being right around the corner. Arthur wished his father had told him he was setting him up for a holiday date with Elena Gawant _before_ all their shops turned into madhouses. No, better still, he wished he wasn't being set up with Elena at all. They'd met as children, and he hadn't been particularly fond of her. Oh, she was all right, he supposed, he'd nothing _against_ her... It was just when he looked at her he felt, well, _nothing_...

And now he had to buy her a present.

What to buy for the girl who made you feel...erm, nothing whatever...?

A fancy box of chocolates, perhaps? What about a pot-holder with pretty flowers on it? Girls liked that sort of thing. Except, Elena was from a wealthy family, same as he was; somehow he doubted she'd ever have to_ touch_ a pot.

No, a pot-holder would not do. Not even the ones with kittens and flowers and all that other nonsense girls got all moony and soppy about. Uther would never let him hear the end of it, if he was so tactless in his gift-choosing.

Walking towards the door Arthur had just come in by, was a pale, blue-eyed chap with big ears, black hair, and what looked like a woolen red scarf wrapped around his neck. Standing close to him, looking a little forlorn, eyes all blood-shot and lackluster, as if she'd been crying, was a beautiful girl with dark hair, all bundled up in a winter coat of purple and russet.

The big-eared fellow, who seemed to be her boyfriend, gave her a shimmering shopping bag with a little red rose tied around the handle.

"Why are you so good to me?" murmured the girl.

"Because..." he began, then faltered. "Because, I can't help it. Because...I..." He forced a smile through his obvious sadness. "I like you."

She looked down at the bag in her hands and shook her head.

"Open it," he encouraged her.

Reaching in, she pulled out a snow globe containing a miniature lakeside scene, glittering water surrounded by wildflowers and mountains. There was something else, too. Putting her hand in again, she discovered a box of chocolate-covered strawberries.

Her whole face lit up with a beaming smile. "You remembered."

"Of course," he told her.

The girl put the snow globe and strawberries back in the bag, just as someone who had been unable to get in the store shouted from behind a growing mob of shoppers, "Miss Lake, your taxi is ready!"

"I'll be right there," she called over her shoulder.

Big, glistening tears filled the scarf-wearing boy's eyes. "I don't want you to go."

The girl embraced him. Pressing her lips close to his ear, she whispered, "One day, Merlin, I will repay you." Pulling away, she added, "I _promise_."

"_Now_, Miss Lake!" shouted the person outside again.

"Yes, I'm coming!" She curled her fingers around the shopping bag's handle and looked once more at Merlin before turning to leave. "Goodbye, Merlin."

"_Freya_..." he sighed, watching her disappear into the darkness and the crowd outside on the street.

What a _loser_, thought Arthur. What kind of man got all weepy over some pretty-faced girl he'd just been forced to spend money on?

Back to the matter at hand. He had to find a present for Elena.

Over on a shiny gold rack, a single pair of black cashmere gloves were harmlessly waiting to be picked up and purchased.

_Perfect!_ Arthur was relieved; he could get the hell out of there now, before the other shoppers' jawing gave him a headache. Gloves were a most excellent gift. Classy enough that his father wouldn't disinherit him for giving them to a woman he'd picked out, but stable and simple enough that a sensible lady wouldn't necessarily think she had a real claim to any man who gave them to her. Neither romantic nor platonic, neither here nor there. In other worlds, perfect.

Unfortunately, at the same moment Arthur, after fast-walking to the rack, reached for the gloves, so did someone else.

They both tugged at them at the exact same moment.

Arthur, rolling his eyes in frustration, looked to see who it was. Oh, _God_! It was that _Merlin_ boy who got all emotional over his girlfriend getting in a taxi.

"Hey!"

"Let go," he snapped.

"But you don't understand," protested Merlin. "I need these!"

"For _what_?" said Arthur. "You already gave your girlfriend a present. I saw you just a minute ago."

"They're not for her, they're for a friend."

"Who?"

"His name's Gaius."

"Well, your precious _Gaius_ is going to have to make do without them," Arthur insisted. "Buy him a toaster instead. Everybody needs a good toaster."

"_You_ buy a toaster!" Merlin barked, continuing to tug on the gloves.

"Let go of those at once," Arthur ordered, "or I swear I will have you blacklisted from every store within a five-mile radius of here."

"Who do you think you are?" Merlin glared at him. "The president of _Albion Goodies and Gifts_?"

"No," he hissed, leaning close to Merlin's face. "I'm his_ son_, Arthur."

"Not fair," Merlin lamented. "I have to spend over a hundred pounds here just to get a ten percent discount, and a prat like you can just buy up the place because his daddy owns it!"

"You can't talk to me like that!"

"Right." Merlin made a fake apologetic face. "A prat like you can just buy up the place because his daddy owns it, _Sir_." But he let go of the gloves, letting Arthur have them.

Arthur's fingers lost their grip, leaving them unattended for a brief moment, only for a smaller, smoother brown hand to slip in between Merlin and Arthur and reach for the coveted cashmere gloves.

Arthur immediately lurched to protect them from the swooping vulture, but then he caught a glimpse of her, and his expression softened.

It was a lovely young woman, maybe Arthur's own age, maybe a year or so younger, with deep brown skin, warm twinkling eyes, dimples, and curly black hair.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, noticing Arthur. "You had them first."

"No..." Arthur waved it off and let go of the gloves. "No problem at all. They're yours."

Merlin glowered.

"I'm Arthur." Arthur introduced himself to the woman.

"Guinevere," she said. "But most people call me Gwen."

"I'm Merlin," Merlin interjected. "Most people call me idiot."

"I can see why," muttered Arthur.

Gwen laughed and shook Merlin's hand, then Arthur's. "Listen, I can't take the gloves. It's sweet of you to offer, but you _did _have them first. I'll find something else."

"No, you take them."

"No..."

"Please, Guinevere."

"I can't!"

"Well, I'm not buying them. So you should."

"Sooo... Can_ I _buy them?" Merlin interjected helplessly.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at him.

"What? _She _doesn't want them, and you just said you-" Merlin shook his head. "Never mind. I'm shutting up now."

"Please, Guinevere, take them."

Gwen was just about to give in and accept when suddenly yet _another_ pair of hands got into the mix, grabbing for the gloves!

A large old man with a white beard and no-nonsense look about him had stepped in and now had the gloves in his possession.

"Wait a minute," Arthur protested, grasping the man's arm. "We were just discussing those."

"Well, you can keep on discussing them long after I've bought them," said the man.

"Look, _what's _your name?"

"Geoffrey."

"Well, Geoffrey, it just so happens that those were meant to be a very special gift for someone." He raised his eyebrows at Merlin and Gwen. "Isn't that right?"

"Yeah!" Merlin chimed in.

"Yes, a special gift," Gwen added.

"You see?" Arthur cocked his head at the old man.

"Who for?"

Arthur hadn't thought of that. He looked nervously from Merlin to Gwen, then back at Geoffrey again. "My girlfriend!"

Gwen, only trying to help, made the mistake of blurting, "My boyfriend!" at exactly the same moment.

"One pair of gloves for two people?" Geoffrey clearly didn't buy that.

"It's a little hard to explain," said Arthur. "You see, she is currently, as of this very moment, my girlfriend..."

"...But, in six months..." Gwen prompted.

"After the operation..." Merlin helped.

Arthur looked horrified and mouthed, "_Operation_?" at Merlin.

"She will be..." Gwen continued.

"_He_ will be," Arthur corrected, joining back in.

"Right, he will be..." (Gwen struggled to keep a straight face) "...my boyfriend."

Merlin nodded emphatically.

"That didn't really work, did it?" Gwen winced sheepishly.

"No," chuckled Geoffrey, "but Merry Christmas anyway." He handed her the gloves.

"Please buy them before we have to do that again," Merlin pleaded.

"I will," Gwen promised. "Thank you, Arthur." She glanced around, looking for a free register. "You, too, Merlin."

"You_ like_ her..." Merlin teased.

"_Blacklist_, Merlin..." Arthur picked up a decorative gift spoon and held it in front of his face. "Blacklisted forever."

"You're threatening me with a _spoon_?"

Over at the register, Gwen thought she heard Merlin yelp. A few minutes after that, just as she had gotten the gloves bought and wrapped up, Arthur came up behind her.

"Thanks again," she told him.

"No problem." He shifted from one foot to the other, not sure what to say. He liked her, but she wasn't like the other girls he knew; not the stuffy, posh princesses Uther liked setting him up with... And he wasn't knowledgeable on how to talk to anyone who wasn't like that.

"It was very kind of you. If there's anything-"

"You could grab a bite to eat with me," Arthur ventured. "I mean, if you're hungry."

"All right, but my treat," Gwen said. "It's the least I can do."

Arthur wanted to offer to pay, but he didn't want her to be uncomfortable, especially since he'd just given up the gloves to her. "What if we split the bill?"

"All right."

"I know a great place, right around the corner," he added.

"Sounds lovely."

Pushing past the hordes at the entrance, this time barely noticing them, Arthur held the door open for Gwen and then followed out behind her.

The tune of the brass bells seemed a little merrier as he was leaving, Gwen glancing over her shoulder, waiting for him to join her out on the sidewalk. This was shaping up to be a lovely night after all, and for the first time in a long while Arthur couldn't _wait_ to see where it might lead.

**A/N: Any good?**


	2. Fate Rides The Elevator of Misfortune

SITTING ACROSS FROM Arthur in the quaint yet surprisingly high-end cafe, Gwen spooned and slurped her thick vanilla milkshake (topped with rainbow sprinkles) as causally as she could manage, trying not to look too uncomfortable.

She wasn't uncomfortable because of _Arthur_. In fact, she was really liking him (and he seemed to be enjoying her company as well). It was more that this wasn't the sort of thing that usually happened to her. Rich, handsome men did not typically give up their intended purchases for her, or hold open doors, or take her out for a smoked sandwich and crisps and then decide they were having so much fun they wanted to stick around for dessert as well.

At least they were splitting the bill. One less thing she had to feel she owed him for.

The good part, in all this, was that he was actually very funny and natural, all else aside. Gwen liked that.

"Do you mind if I ask who the gloves are for?" Arthur wanted to know.

"Can't they just be for me?" said Gwen.

"Sure." Arthur shrugged. "I just thought maybe they were a gift for someone..._special_... It being that time of year."

"Oh, they are," Gwen assured him.

Arthur looked a little dejected, thinking she already had a boyfriend. "Oh."

"My father." She chuckled lightly.

"_Oh_!" Arthur said again, more enthusiastically.

"Yeah..."

"So there's no one...?"

Gwen developed a sudden deep interest in her now mostly-finished milkshake. "As of the moment, no."

"Bad break up?" Arthur asked, then shook his head, leaning back. "Forgive me, you don't have to answer that. Too personal."

"No, no, it's all right. It's just... Well there _has_ been somebody. _Once_. We were never actually together. We might have been, given time, but he was very honest and straight forward, and even though there was a job offer for him near where I lived, he felt it was given under false pretenses, and he left. I haven't heard from him since. I guess he's still out there, finding his way." She sighed heavily, remembering. "I do hope Lancelot finds what he's looking for, someday."

"I'm sorry," said Arthur, simply because he didn't know what else to say.

Gwen smiled. "It's all right. Clearly it just wasn't meant to be."

"You believe that?" Arthur asked.

"Believe what?"

"That things are meant to be? Fated?"

"Sure, don't you?"

"Honestly, Guinevere, I have no idea."

A moment of awkward silence followed. Gwen tried to fill it. "You know, it's funny, I'm really having a great time talking to you."

"Why is that funny?" Arthur's brow crinkled.

Gwen blushed. "It's just that I normally don't go for men like you."

"Men like me?"

"You're, you know, one of those rough, tough, save the world kind of men..."

"You make it sound like a bad thing."

"Oh, no, no, no." Gwen held up her hands. "Not at all. I usually just like more ordinary men."

"I see."

"Like Merlin," she blurted. "Your friend from the store."

"_Merlin_?" Why on earth would Gwen want _Merlin _over him? Was she _blind_?

"No, I didn't mean Merlin, obviously," Gwen explained hurriedly. "Not Merlin. But just, you know, I usually like much more ordinary men... _Like_ Merlin."

"Well now I have to find something else for Elena."

"Elena...? Oh, they were for your _girlfriend_." She felt terrible. "I can't keep them now. Here, you take them." She reached down next to her chair where the gloves were. "As a Christmas gift. Please. You can't say no."

"I certainly _can_!" snorted Arthur, laughing a little. "Keep the gloves. Elena is not my girlfriend. She's a friend, sort of, who's a girl; who my father refuses to be disillusioned about my falling madly in love with someday. And now I have to buy her a gift to keep him from having an aneurysm."

Gwen tried not to, but she couldn't help smiling. Even though he clearly wasn't one hundred percent available, what with his father setting him up and hoping for the best, she couldn't help but be happy Arthur didn't have a steady girlfriend. Clearly, things weren't going to happen right now, but who knew in the future? They could meet again, perhaps, if they were meant to. And then things might be different. She might be a little more over Lancelot, and he might not have Elena and his father to worry about then.

AFTER THE CHECK was taken care of, split fifty-fifty (except for the tip, which Arthur said he was happy to take care of), they got up to leave and walked outside together.

Watching Gwen scan the area for an available taxi, all Arthur could think was, _This is _it_? I meet this really pretty, really smart, _amazing_ girl -who talks to me like I'm a real person, not just my father's son- have one meal with her, and never see her again?_ He didn't even know her last name! If she walked away now, he wouldn't know how to find her. Was he about to spend the rest of his life pretending he liked girls like Elena, who only went out with him because of an obligation they both had?

"Guinevere," Arthur tried, "can I at least have your phone number or...?"

"What for?" Gwen blinked at him, as if she really were puzzled as to why he'd want it.

"So I can find you again."

"Arthur, if we're meant to meet again, I'm sure we will."

"Well, just to be on the safe side..." He pressed, not taking no for an answer.

"Oh, all right." Gwen reached into her purse and pulled out a piece of a paper and a pen. Before she could even write anything on it, a gust of snowy wind blew the paper out of her hand.

Crestfallen, Arthur watched it disappear into the night air. "That was a coincidence! I'll find you more paper."

Gwen shook her head. "No, Arthur, fate's telling us to back off. It must be a sign."

"You can't be _serious_," cried Arthur. "We had a great time, and you really don't want to see me again?"

"Of course I do," said Gwen. "It was so much fun talking to you. I just think maybe now isn't the right time."

"You know, fate has a lot to do." Arthur grinned impishly and lifted a finger in a pointed 'ah-ha!' manner. "What we _should_ do is give it a hand."

Gwen nodded. "You're right."

"I am?" He cleared his throat. "I mean, I am. Naturally."

Swallowing back a giggle, Gwen asked to borrow five pounds.

She hadn't wanted him paying for dinner, but was fine with asking for a random five pound note? Strange. But Arthur gave it to her regardless.

"Here." She handed him the pen and stood with her back to him so he had something to write on. "Put down your name and phone number."

"On a five pound note?" Arthur was majorly confused.

"Yes, trust me."

Using her back as a makeshift table, he wrote down his contact information and then, as she turned around, handed it to her.

"Be right back," Gwen told him, bounding off to a nearby magazine stand, where she proceeded to buy a magazine with the five pound note Arthur had just written on.

"Why did you do that?" he asked pathetically, fast-walking over to her.

"When that five pound note makes its way back into my hands," Gwen explained, "I'll be able to call you. And when you hear my voice on the other end, you'll know it wasn't just some accident. That it was meant to happen. And so will I!"

This was getting frustrating absurdly quickly. "But that's not fair! What about_ you_?"

"What about me?" Gwen asked innocently, her lovely brown eyes showing no sign whatever of understanding why he was so upset.

"If we send something with _my_ personal information into the world-" (and Arthur didn't even want to _think_ about some of the crazy young girls and desperate middle-aged women who might call him if that five pound note fell into the wrong hands...) "-shouldn't there be something out there with _your_ name on it?"

"Right... Come with me." Gwen took his hand and led him over to a bargain table set out in front of a bookstore across the street. "See this book?" She picked up a large clunker with a picture of a black-haired girl riding a horse and carrying a sword on the cover.

"_The Mists of Avalon_," Arthur read the title. "Yes, so?"

"I'm going to buy this book," she told him, "write my name and number in it... Then, tomorrow morning, I'm going to donate it to a used bookstore."

"_Great_..." said Arthur; his tone implied the exact opposite. "Which one?"

"I can't _tell _you!"

"Why not?" he huffed.

"Don't you see? It's perfect." Gwen held up the book, so he could get a better look at the edition. "Because, then, every time you pass an old book store, you can stop in and see if it's there."

"But what if you're wrong?" Arthur knew his tone bordered on whining, but he couldn't help it. "What if we really are supposed to be together now and we're...I don't know...angering the gods?"

"_Angering the gods_?" Gwen shot him an incredulous expression. "Really?"

"You're right, that's stupid," Arthur conceded. "Forget I said that." Then, "But _see_? You're already having a great influence on me! You're making me confess to being stupid. A few hours ago, I would _never _have admitted that."

"_Wow_..." Gwen rolled her eyes. "You are bold, I have to give you that."

"Come on," Arthur begged. "Give me a chance. A real chance. Not just some book and five pound note, but a way that..."

He looked so pitiful; Gwen had never seen anyone look at her like that before. "All right, let's try something else."

Arthur let out a sigh of relief. "Yes, something else would be good."

"Let's go."

"Where?"

"You'll see soon enough." Gwen had his hand again, leading the way.

Arthur wanted to entwine his fingers with hers, but before he mustered up the courage, they'd already stopped and she had let go.

They were standing in front of a tall, marble hotel with a revolving glass door.

"Are we getting a room?" Arthur asked. It was a little sudden, but if that's what she wanted...

"_No_." Gwen stepped into the revolving door.

Arthur followed just behind.

Gwen marched right over to the elevators. "This is what we're going to do." She pushed the UP button. It immediately lit up yellow and green. "I'm going in this elevator. You can go in the one right across from it. Then, we're both going to pick a floor at random. If we both choose the same one, we're meant to be together now."

Arthur frowned. "You're trying to get rid of me, aren't you?"

In spite of the fact that girls generally found him wealthy and attractive enough so that he had never been_ properly _stood up, a few of them had tried to ditch him _during_ their date. He'd seen some pretty creative stunts. Girls climbing out of bathroom windows...girls whose grandparents _on both sides _had chosen to drop dead before the salad arrived...girls who faked fainting spells...even one girl who had tried to stab him with a butter-knife and make a run for it in the chaos that ensued...

But, this -elevator stye dumping- was definitely a new one.

"Here." Gwen took the cashmere gloves, removed the tag so they were no longer joined together, and handed one to Arthur. "You can give it back next time you see me."

"Your father's going to have a hard time of it, going around with one glove all winter," Arthur warned her.

"Which is why I wish you luck." Gwen kissed him on the cheek. "Hope to see you in a couple minutes, Arthur." With that, she slipped into the elevator and selected her floor.

_The ninth floor_. Here was hoping Arthur picked the same.

INSIDE THE ELEVATOR, Arthur took a deep breath. He wanted so badly to pick the same floor as Gwen, to make her see that they deserved a chance to find out if they were compatible and where this obvious attraction between them could go. Who cared about_ fate_? Forget fate.

Exhaling, he chose his floor. The number nine lit up. Here was hoping his Guinevere was waiting for him on the ninth floor of this hotel.

Unfortunately, no sooner had he pushed the button than a woman's voice called out, "Wait, please, hold it!"

A dark-haired girl in high heels was rushing toward the elevators, pulling someone shorter (or at least in flats) but equally dark-headed, along behind her.

Arthur later regretted it, but he did the gentlemanly thing and helped the maiden in distress; he put his hand in the door to keep it open. He figured it didn't matter. As soon as he found out whether or not he and Gwen picked the same floor, the girl and her dwarf-sized friend could ride the elevator all night long for all he cared. No skin off his nose to let them in now, so long as they were willing to let him off on his chosen floor first.

"Thank you," panted the girl, stepping in.

"No pro-" Arthur stopped mid-word. "God have mercy! _Morgana_?"

She looked up into his face. "Oh, it's you." Her tone wasn't very enthusiastic. She'd been hoping it was some gallant, handsome stranger. But, nope, just Arthur.

"Don't sound so thrilled," He commented.

Morgana ignored him, bending over to straighten out the collar on the shirt of the little person -or, rather, _child_- she had with her.

Morgana was, as it happened, Arthur's half-sister by his father's former girlfriend Vivienne (the last woman Uther had been with before marrying Arthur's late mother, Ygraine). Unfortunately, Vivienne had already been married to somebody else (Mr. Gorlois, about whom all Arthur knew was that he had left some very nasty messages with Uther's personal assistant after the affair came to light), so Morgana had a half-sibling on _that _side, too. A older sister: Morgause. And that sister and her annoying boyfriend, Cenred, were the parents of the little boy, young Mordred, who accompanied Morgana now. They adored each other, Morgana and Mordred, and she was _always _taking out for the day (ice cream, the zoo, the park, meals at hotels, anything to spend time with him, really, and Morgause didn't seem to mind, never having been a very maternal sort of woman to begin with).

"Hello, Mordred," Arthur said.

The boy just stared at him mutely. He didn't like to talk much.

"So, Morgana, going up, right?"

"Oh, Mordred likes to ride either way," Morgana assured him. "Don't you, Mordred?"

No reply.

"Mordred?"

Mordred was currently busy, while the adults had been temporarily distracted, pressing all the floor buttons on the elevator.

"No!" cried Arthur, rushing forward to pull Mordred away. "Don't push those!"

Morgana hurried over, the sound of her heels muffled by the elevator's carpet, and put her arm around Mordred defensively. "Arthur, don't yell at him! How can the poor child have done anything so wrong? He's just a boy."

The truth was, Arthur liked Mordred a great deal, and felt sorry for him. It couldn't have been easy having a mother like Morgause, or even a grandmother as trampy as Vivienne, for that matter; but sometimes he felt like that blasted child, and his quiet shenanigans, was going to be the death of him.

ON THE NINTH floor, Gwen waited patiently. She glanced in the hallway mirror, then back at the elevators excitedly, hoping against hope. But there was no Arthur in sight. She was beginning to fear he wasn't coming.

She sort of wished she'd just given him her phone number after all, like he'd wanted.

Now she might never see him again.

MEANWHILE, ARTHUR WAS darting out into several different floors, accompanied now not only by Morgana and Mordred, but also by a small entourage they'd picked up along the way. Three women who looked like they were stoned, muttering about drowning faces in water, dancing goblins on hot coals, and people spitting out toads, a little curly-haired girl in a pink sweater about Mordred's age (Morgana said she was Kara, one of his friends from school), and a brown-haired chap wearing a red cape named Owain. All of them were now earnestly trying to help Arthur find Gwen in time.

"Is she here?" Kara asked, peeking out along with Mordred as Arthur raced into the lobby on that floor.

Arthur came running back, shaking his head no.

Everyone rushed back into the elevator. Owain's cape got stuck in the door and Morgana had to push the emergency button to get him free again. Arthur would have helped him, but he was smashed between two of the three stoned girls, unable to reach the elevator doors.

_Ding! _

Morgana jumped out this time, looking around for Gwen. "There's no one here, everybody back!"

By the time they finally made it to the ninth floor, Gwen was already gone, and all Arthur had left to remember her by was a single cashmere glove and the promise of a book with her name and number written in it, in an unknown bookstore somewhere.

"I'M REALLY SORRY, Arthur," Morgana said for the thousandth time, as they left the hotel.

Arthur waved it off. It wasn't all right, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

"Mordred didn't mean any harm," she added. "Did you, Mordred?"

Mordred shook his head no. Kara squeezed her friend's hand.

Arthur helped Morgana, Kara, and Mordred get a taxi, but once Owain was piled in, too, there was no room left for him to join them.

"I'll get the next one," he said, shutting the taxi door behind them. "Good luck, Mordred."

Once alone, Arthur let out his frustration by kicking a pile of snow, which hit a passerby in the face, almost knocking them down.

He was about to apologize when he saw it was only Merlin. "You bumpkin! Why don't you watch where you're going?"

Merlin was busy getting snow unstuck from his eyelashes. "Well, forgive me for not expecting to be pelted with snow while standing on the sidewalk minding my own business!"

"Has that at least woken you up, then?" Arthur snapped.

"Raring to go, Sir," he mumbled, finally getting his eyes clear. "Hey, I know _you_. You're the man who threatened me with a spoon earlier tonight when all I wanted was to buy a pair of gloves! Not nice, my friend."

"Have we _ever_ met before tonight?" Arthur snapped.

"No..."

"Yet you called me friend."

"That was my mistake," said Merlin.

"Yes, I think so."

"Yeah. I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass."

"Or I one who could be so stupid."

"Want to share a taxi?" Merlin offered, deciding to be the bigger person here.

Arthur grumbled something incoherent under his breath that Merlin took for the Pendragon way of saying, _Sure, why not?_

As they were getting into their taxi, Merlin prattled, teasingly, "You know, Arthur, first the gloves, then the snow, and now we're sharing a taxi, all on the same night; I think this must be fate."

"Either that," said Arthur, wrinkling his nose while Merlin clicked his seat-belt into place, "or you're a _complete _idiot."

He knew he was being a bit unfair, but the truth was, Arthur Pendragon had had more than enough 'fate' for one night.

And as for this _Merlin_, Arthur couldn't wait to get as far away from him as humanly possible.

**A/N: Next chapter will be five years later...**


	3. Five Years Later

IT HAD BEEN five years since the fateful night Arthur Pendragon met -and then proceeded to promptly _lose_, in what must have been record time- the lovely Guinevere.

An awful lot had changed in the meantime, not all of it for the better.

For one thing, Arthur no longer woke up in his posh, decked-out flat (complete with big, king-sized bed and Foosball table) paid for by Uther, president of _Albion Goodies and Gifts_.

No, these days, he woke up on a futon in a one-bedroom flat with his toes up -nine out of ten times- Merlin's nostrils.

Arthur and his father had had a falling out, quite a while back, and he'd ended up getting his arse disinherited. Luckily, before Uther died, they'd reconciled, but the man -being on his deathbed- had had no time left to reinstate his beloved son back into his will, which meant Morgana got _everything_.

And while Arthur might have expected his sister to share, understanding their father had loved both of them and that they _both_ had a right to his money and business connections, she'd turned around and double-crossed him. Now she, and she alone, controlled the entire Pendragon fortune and personally saw to it that her 'dear brother' never got his share.

Which meant he was stuck living with Merlin.

Not that it was all gloom and doom. Sure, most of his old friends were suddenly all "Arthur _who_?" now that he was poor, but he'd gotten new ones -the fact that most of these were actually _Merlin's_ friends who had immediately accepted him into their inner circle on his say so that Arthur was a good egg, he chose to ignore, as it was a minor detail- and a new love, his now-fiance, the beautiful Mithian Rodor.

Ironically, Mithian was exactly the kind of girl his father would have wanted him to marry: high-society and from a rich family. When he had first met her, Arthur had expected not to like her much at all, but she had such an easy-going nature that it didn't matter how rich or educated she was. They'd had a whirlwind romance that had been fairly smooth sailing aside from one or two unfortunate incidents involving Merlin trying to break them up because he misunderstood and thought Arthur was unhappy in the relationship, then finally he'd proposed and she, smiling at him, eyes shining, said yes.

What he really_ had_ to start doing, was spending more nights over Mithian's house. Yes, Merlin had been a true friend indeed, letting him move in with him and Gaius, but not only was the futon sort of lumpy, this whole sleeping head-to-foot thing was just _not_ working out.

Merlin had, in his sleep, grabbed hold of his foot and appeared to be _hugging_ it.

_Again_.

He did that sometimes, when he was dreaming about Freya, that blasted girl he'd gotten all weepy over five years ago who was now technically his wife, though they rarely ever saw each other in person.

"Mur-_lynn_!" barked Arthur, kicking him in the face. "Get off me!"

Being kicked in the face might not be the most pleasant wake up call, but as it was a fairly common occurrence over recent years, Merlin was kind of getting used to it.

"Good morning to you, too," Merlin mumbled, letting go of Arthur's foot.

"Why do you always hug my foot like that?" demanded Arthur.

"I don't_ always_," Merlin defended himself. "And perhaps if you found another place for your feet that didn't involve them going up my nose on a nightly basis..."

"Shut up, Merlin." Arthur groaned and got off the futon, bending over and rubbing some feeling back into his ankle.

"I'm going to check on Gaius," Merlin said, getting up and heading for the door to the only bedroom in the flat.

Most days, Merlin's elderly friend Gaius -who was the closest thing he had to a father, having only found his biological father, Balinor, a year or so after meeting Arthur, only to discover the man was dying of cancer (and he did so, in Merlin's arms, in the ward, not two days after their initial meeting)- was fine, in near perfect health, but every once in a while he had a bad bout of something or other that made him go entirely senile. They called these moments his 'goblin days'. For Gaius acted so differently when the strange moods hit him -so completely changed in personality- that it was like he was possessed. He'd make mean comments, even to Merlin, steal valuables from the other tenants in the building (several of them threatened to bring up a lawsuit in regards to the matter), drink too much, and generally run amuck unless kept strictly in line.

Being fond of Gaius himself, Arthur hoped his wedding wouldn't fall on one of the old man's goblin days. And it wasn't as if they could keep him away if that did turn out to be the case; Merlin was the best man, and anyone they might have asked to watch Gaius for the day would be _at _the wedding...

Merlin turned the door-handle and peeked in. Gaius was still sleeping, seemingly peacefully. Closing the door, he said, "He's asleep. Quick, Arthur, let me borrow your laptop before he wakes up."

His laptop was one of the few things Arthur had managed to avoid having repossessed when Uther gave him the bum's rush out of his own flat and sold all his furniture, as well as anything else within sight that had been even remotely expensive. Which, since they were Pendragons, and as such had expensive taste by nature, was basically _everything_.

"Here." Arthur reached under the futon and grabbed the laptop. It was clear-coloured, designed to look like it was holding water that could move from side to side like it was in an hourglass. "But be quick, and for the love of _God_, Merlin, do _not_ kiss the screen. The last thing I want today is to have to clean tongue marks off my monitor."

"I don't _do_ that!" Merlin opened the laptop and set it up on a small end-table.

"Why do you even use that lousy _Avalon Water_ service?" Arthur yawned. "Surely there's a video conference service that doesn't drop your call after ten minutes."

"It's all I can afford, Arthur," Merlin reminded him, typing his password into the server where it prompted him. "Besides, it works fine."

"If by fine," Arthur said, disappearing into the kitchen and returning with a coffee mug, "you mean you thought she was _dead _at one point because of dropped service, then yes, it works fine."

"Yeah, the police in Canada are _still_ mad at me for calling them." Merlin grimaced.

"Look at the picture quality," Arthur pointed out, gesturing at the screen. "It's terrible. It looks like you've got ripples going across the screen."

Suddenly Freya's face appeared and Merlin automatically tuned Arthur, and any other living creature in the known universe, completely out. "Freya? Is it really you?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and took a sip from the mug in his hand. Who _else_ was it going to be? An imposer? Merlin acted like that _every_ time he saw Freya's face now. The man's wife was going to university in Canada, for pity's sake, she wasn't lost in Antarctica!

"I've missed you," said Freya.

"And I've missed _you_," Merlin assured her.

"How is everyone?" she asked.

"Good. How is everything over there?"

"Good."

"Merlin?" Gaius came out of the bedroom, grumbling and looking sour-faced.

Merlin had hoped to finish talking to Freya before Gaius woke up, simply because he hadn't known what mood he'd be in today, but there was nothing for it now. "I'm talking to Freya!" he shouted over his shoulder, somewhat dismissively.

"_Freya_?" roared Gaius, stomping forward. "Freya who? Who's he talking about, Arthur?"

Great, another goblin day... "My_ wife_," sighed Merlin. "We've talked about her before, Gaius. _Frequently_. You even met her once."

"Hello, Gaius," said Freya, smiling at him from the monitor.

"This is your wife?" Gaius asked, squinting at the computer.

"Yes," said Merlin proudly. "Isn't she pretty?"

"You married a_ machine_?" The old man's tone was one of utter disgust.

"No, Gaius, we're video chatting..." Merlin tried to explain.

"Sometimes I worry about you, Merlin."

"Merlin, we don't have long," Freya warned him.

He turned his attention back to the screen.

"Hey, get me some breakfast, Fatty!" Gaius shouted loudly at Arthur, even though he was standing less than a foot away.

"I am _not_ fat!" Arthur protested.

"Excuse me, Freya, sorry about this." Merlin leaned away from the computer and whisper-hissed, "Just get him his breakfast, Arthur."

"But I'm not fat."

"Yeah, and I'm not married to a machine either."

"Well, that's debatable."

"_Please_, Arthur. Just feed him and let him rant for a bit, then you can go to work and not have to deal with him for the rest of the day, all right?"

"Fine," Arthur gave in.

"Oh, but remember, we have that celebratory engagement dinner for you and Mithian tonight."

"Right, what time?"

"Seven, at Mithian's house."

"I'll be there."

ARTHUR KNEW HE should have stopped Merlin while he was ahead. He should have insisted on his not giving any toast at the engagement dinner. Oh, sure, Merlin had only had three and a half glasses of wine, and he was still standing up straight, which was good, but Arthur had seen his best friend pick a fight with his own reflection after _two_.

So, of course, after those three glasses of wine, when Merlin started clanking his spoon against his glass to get everybody's attention for the toast, Arthur should have said something. Alas, he did no such thing. Instead, he just glanced nervously at Mithian, squeezed her hand, and watched Merlin rise to his feet, glass in hand, like he was observing a nuclear bomb going off. From a safe distance, it would have been amusing; from this close of range, Arthur all but feared for his life. (Well, his _social_ life anyway... What was left of it, that is.)

"So, as the best man of the upcoming wedding, I thought I should say a few words."

Mithian smiled encouragingly; she'd always liked Merlin, pleased that her fiance had such a good, sensible best friend. Arthur mouthed something that was either, "I'm going to kill you," or "I'm taking Bill to the zoo," though the first one seemed more probable.

"Arthur's love life," Merlin continued, "has always been a little...shall we say..._difficult_...?"

A few people giggled.

"I mean, I watched him, night after night, go out with girl after girl." Merlin shook his head and sucked his teeth. "In fact, I think half the girls here tonight dated him at one point." He motioned with his glass at a perky looking blonde girl in a green evening dress seated as far away from Arthur as the party planner was able to arrange. "That's Vivian over there." He scanned the table. His slightly glassy eyes landed on a delicate-looking girl with light brown hair. "And if it isn't Sophia, ex-girlfriend number one."

Sophia flipped Merlin the bird, pretending to simply be getting a better grip on the side of her own wineglass.

Arthur was really starting to want to do the same, but he just lowered his forehead to his hand.

"None of these girls were the one for him," Merlin prattled. "Because it would always end in heartbreak and he would come crawling back to_ me_, his best friend. Who would then have to listen to him whine about _each and every _one of them."

Vivian laughed, apparently not getting that _she _was one of those annoying girls Merlin had had to listen to Arthur gripe about.

"But one night, things were very different."

Arthur lifted his head, hoping Merlin was getting to the point now.

"That night, he wasn't upset or heartbroken." Merlin grinned at Mithian. "Because he had found her. He had finally found the woman of his dreams. And, although at first I thought it was just another phase, I quickly came to realize it was real. Mithian really was the girl for him. And she was beautiful, and kind, and able to put up with his nonsense. And, honestly, I couldn't dream up a better person to share my best friend with."

Someone on the other end of the table yelled, "Awww!"

Mithian mouthed, "Thank you, Merlin."

Even Arthur cracked a little bit of a smile. Who knew a drunken toast could be so touching?

"And I want to let you know, Mithian," he added, jokingly, "that when he drives you crazy, you can always call me. After all, who could better understand what you're going through than his first wife?"

Everyone burst out laughing, including Arthur.

"I wish you both every happiness." He lifted his glass high up, and the rest of the guests did the same. "To Arthur and Gwen."

Suddenly everyone was looking at Merlin funny. He hadn't realized his mistake, and was wondering why the entire dinner party all wore the same confused, shocked expression on their face.

"What did I say?" he whispered to Arthur, trying to figure out where he'd gone wrong. "Why's everyone looking at me like that?"

"You really are a total_ buffoon_, aren't you?" hissed Arthur. "You just called Mithian by the wrong name!"

"Sorry." Merlin winced apologetically.

Mithian was more gracious about it than Arthur. "It's all right," she said loudly, clapping, silently urging everyone else to join her. "Merlin, that was a lovely toast."

ARTHUR HAD BEEN horrified when Merlin said the wrong name, in front of all those people, most of whom were going to be at the wedding as well, but something inside him also snapped back into focus, Guinevere's face reappearing in his mind as if he'd only met her _yesterday_, not five years ago. He remembered how much fun it was talking to her, and how he'd lost in her in an unfortunate elevator fate-test...

Maybe it was just cold feet. Perhaps he didn't feel he was good enough for Mithian. Or he could have had a little too much wine himself without realizing it.

Whatever the cause, he found himself, on his way back to Merlin's flat, stopping in at a used bookstore.

Of course he'd looked for Gwen's copy of _The Mists of Avalon_ hundreds of times before. Even when he was in a relationship with somebody else, before it went sour, he kept looking; just in case. But he'd never found it. There was never a name and phone number in any of the copies he pulled off the shelves, silently praying he'd finally found it, at the very least so he could stop _looking_ already, stop wondering if he ever _would_.

A few pushy booksellers asked, as he entered the building, if they could help him with something, but he told them no and marched over to the shelves alone.

There!

A copy of_ The Mists of Avalon_. And just the right edition, too. Was it possible? Had he found it? He reached up and pulled the book off the shelf, slowly counting to ten in his mind and opening the cover.

Blank. No contact information for the mysterious Guinevere.

A bookseller with a _Hello, my name is George _name-tag neatly pinned to his perfectly pressed shirt materialized at his elbow. "A most excellent choice, Sir."

Arthur put it back. "No thanks. I changed my mind, I don't want it."

"But, _Sir_-" the person tried, calling after Arthur's retreating back.

"I saw the mini-series," Arthur said dismissively over his shoulder. "I don't need to read it." (Actually, _Merlin _had watched the series, staying up late to finish it, while Arthur had been out cold on the futon, snoring away, but that was only a small technically.) "I'm fine with just having the film version in my mind. To be honest, I quite like it that way."

AN HOUR LATER, Arthur entered the flat, to find Merlin rummaging through the cabinets for a late night snack. He pulled out a bag of cookies and sat down at the kitchen table.

"Where were you?" he asked, swallowing a mouthful of chocolate-and-cream cookie.

"I stopped at a bookstore on the way home," Arthur told him.

Merlin's eyes widened. "_You_? A bookstore. Really?"

"Yes, really."

"You weren't by any chance looking for Gwen's book, were you?" Merlin asked.

"No, of course not," snorted Arthur. "Don't be ridiculous, Merlin."

"You sure?" Merlin arched a brow. "Because the only times I've ever seen you go into bookstores, _at all_, is when you're looking for that."

"Merlin, I am happily engaged," Arthur insisted. "What is wrong with you, anyway? I thought you _liked _Mithian."

"I do," Merlin assured him, taking another cookie out of the bag. "I've nothing against Mithian. I think she's the best thing since the discovery of potatoes."

"So what's all this about then?"

"I just want you to be _happy_, Arthur," Merlin said gently. "I'm your friend. And if you're always going to be wondering...about Gwen... Is that really fair to you _or_ Mithian? Gwen, from what I remember, seemed really nice, too. Like someone who would be worthy of your love."

"Indeed," grunted Arthur. "Were it so."

"Arthur, are you _sure _you want to marry Mithian?"

"Yes," Arthur said, a little peevishly. "Honestly, Merlin, as I recall, _you_ were the one who brought her up tonight. Maybe _I'm _not the one with the relationship problems."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Merlin dropped the bag of cookies on the table, looking defensive.

"Nothing, just that you seem to be the one having a hard time forgetting Guinevere. Not me."

"Oh, by the way, Arthur," Merlin said, changing the subject, "If you hear someone breaking into the flat tonight, don't worry, it's only Gwaine."

"Why on _earth_ is Gwaine going to break into the flat?"

"To kidnap you." Merlin stood up and walked across the kitchen.

"_What_?"

"Yeah, Gwaine and some of his friends are going to kidnap you and take you to a surprise bachelor party in your pajamas."

"Ew, why?"

"Apparently it's fun." Merlin shrugged. "Don't tell them I told you."

"Wait, you're not coming?"

"I'm not a bachelor."

Arthur smirked at him and pointed. "You asked Freya."

"What?"

"You asked Freya if you could be at the bachelor party, and she said no way." Arthur chuckled and shook his head. "Merlin, you are a wonder. But the wonder is that you're so_ whipped_."

"That's _not_ what happened!" Merlin turned red.

Arthur laughed harder.

"Look, it's really not my kind of party, anyway... With all the popcorn and the naked women and firecrackers and everything..."

Arthur crinkled his forehead. "Merlin, what exactly do you think _happens_ at a bachelor party?"

"And someone needs to stay with Gaius," Merlin reminded him. "I can't risk him getting me into any more trouble. You remember Mary, from downstairs?"

Arthur thought for a moment. "The really _big _girl? Brown hair? For some reason thinks _you're_ handsome but never gives me the time of day? Landlord's daughter, right?"

Merlin nodded. "That's the one."

"What about her?"

"Gaius stole our rent money, spent it all on drink, and now she's threatening to make me work it off." Merlin looked very uncomfortable. "And somehow I don't think she means walking her dogs."

"Good luck with that."

"And you have fun being kidnapped."

"I still can't believe," Arthur felt the need to say, "that you're going to let Gwaine and a bunch of people we barely even know come marching in here and drag off your _best _friend, a man who has stuck with you through thick and thin, to God knows where, in the middle of the night."

Merlin stuck his head in the fridge. "If it's someplace near a grocery store, remember we need milk, all right?"

"_Fine_," sighed Arthur, making a mental note.

Later, passed out on the futon, Merlin woke to Arthur lightly shaking him. "_Merlin_."

"Hmm?"

"Gwaine and the rest of my kidnappers are here."

Merlin yawned and rolled over. "All right, have fun."

"I will."

Just then, Gwaine came charging in, yelling, "_There's_ the groom to be!"

Arthur said something, but Merlin missed whatever it was, having fallen back asleep.


	4. She's Everywhere!

AS GWEN TURNED the key in the lock and opened the door, a number of multi-coloured rose petals, scattered across the floor, were whisked from one end of the room to the other due to the breeze she'd let in.

Gillyflowers (her favourite!) were placed on all the windowsills and on the arms of the couch.

In the center of the living room stood a box almost as tall as she was, and twice as wide, all wrapped up in glossy, shimmering silver-and-red paper, with a big puffy red bow on the top.

Setting her keys down on the table, Gwen put a hand to her mouth. What was all this?

She took off the tan baret she was wearing over her dark, curly hair, setting it down beside her keys, and went over to the box and started unwrapping it.

Inside, there was a slightly smaller box, also wrapped up in fancy paper.

Box followed box, protected by scores of red tissue paper as well, until the room was full of boxes and wrapping paper and tissue paper. Finally, there was only one box left: a small blue velvet one, the sort that held a ring.

_Oh my _God, thought Gwen, tears of joy and excitement filling her brown eyes. _He's going to propose! I'm getting _married_!_

But, strangely enough, when she gently popped open the blue velvet box, she saw there was _nothing_ inside. What in the world...?

A voice behind her said, "You have to say yes first."

Gwen whirled around to see Lancelot standing in the far corner of the room, having been hidden, watching her the entire time, holding a big diamond ring between his thumb and index finger.

After moving to Canada, Guinevere and Lancelot had been unexpectedly reunited and had been dating for almost three years now. She couldn't believe he was finally proposing, asking her to marry him! Part of her felt a little guilty, though, knowing full well that she had -even that very morning- carefully checked over every piece of change she gotten back from the corner store, looking in particular for five pound notes, just to see if Arthur's number was on any of them.

Well, it didn't matter. Arthur was never going to happen. She'd been looking for that five pound note for five years and nothing had come of it. Through her own empty-headed belief that fate would work everything out, she'd lost Arthur. And she wasn't going to lose Lancelot the same way. She was going to marry him and live happy with him for the rest of her life. She loved Lancelot, after all, and she'd barely _known _Arthur, having only met him that once. Maybe that was fate's real answer. Perhaps it had wanted her with Lancelot all along. Not Arthur. She could have been _meant_ to lose him in that elevator five years ago... Then again, she wasn't sure she really believed in fate much these days. She and Lancelot were together by coincidence, in part, but also because they_ worked_ at their relationship; it wasn't always smiles and roses. Just _most_ of the time it happened to be. And was that so wrong?

"Yes, of course." Gwen ran over to him.

Lancelot took her hand and tried to put the ring on her finger, except it turned out to be too small.

"Ouch!" she yelped.

"Oh, sorry." Lancelot winced. The ring had only gotten as far as her second knuckle. "You're not going to read anything into this, right Gwen? I mean, it's just an honest mistake."

She shook her head. "No, of _course _not! We'll get it re-sized tomorrow." She kissed him on the cheek. "It's beautiful."

Lancelot grinned and gently pulled away from her. "I'm going to call Elyan, tell him you said yes."

"Why?" Gwen laughed. "Was he worried?"

"Well, not so much about you as about the party he's throwing for us tonight," Lancelot chuckle-explained. "If you had declined my offer of marriage, I fear poor Elyan would have had a very laborious lists of guests to uninvite."

"In that case, you can reassure Elyan," said Gwen, all smiles, "that there's absolutely no need to worry."

"Wonderful." Lancelot sighed happily. "How do you feel about Italy for our honeymoon?"

"It sounds very romantic," Gwen said, blushing and playing with the diamond ring on her knuckle.

"You've made me so happy, Guinevere," Lancelot felt he had to tell her.

"And you've made_ me_ so happy," Gwen said back. "You are everything that is right in this world. I had no idea... I didn't even know I could feel this way about someone."

Before running off to call Elyan and let him know he could put his mind at ease, Lancelot pulled Gwen back to him and kissed her once more, this time on the mouth.

ARTHUR THOUGHT HE was going insane. Completely, off his head, out of his mind, no kidding, madhouse ahoy, hell frozen over, _insane_.

He was supposed to be getting ready for his wedding to Mithian and everything -literally _everything_- was reminding him of Guinevere. She might as well have been a ghost, because she was seriously haunting him; every place he went, everything he did.

Gwen was bloody_ everywhere_!

First, somebody paged for a Gwen over the intercom at the hospital, where they'd ended up having to take Gwaine after an unfortunate incident at the bachelor party (long story). Arthur had looked at the reception desk for her arrival, in spite of himself, thinking it just might be her. _His_ Gwen. The Gwen whose copy of _The Mists of Avalon_ he'd never been able to find. But, no, it was a rather large woman who reminded him of Merlin's friend Mary from downstairs.

Then he went to get his hair cut the following morning, half asleep in the chair from having been up all night, and some new girl came flouting in, saying that his usual barber was out for the day, but she was there and was just going to give him a quick trim so he'd look extra spruced up for his wedding. Arthur was fine with that... Until she said her name was _Gwen_. Suddenly he was jumping out of the chair, blurting out something about how he didn't want his hair to be too short in the pictures, how he and Mithian had to live with those pictures for the rest of their lives after all, showing them to the grandchildren and all that rot.

But even after he fled from Gwen the hairdresser, there was no escape.

He was in a taxi, stuck in traffic, with some totally weird, scruffy fellow on a bike overloaded with various tassels, bells, and horns, complete with a wicker basket on the handles and a nameplate that read TRICKLER in big capitol letters just _belting_ out Heather Dale's _The Trial of Lancelot_ like he was trying to out-sing the ghost of Whitney Huston.

"_I'll die in love with _GUINEVERE_...!_" scream-sang Trickler at the top of his lungs, bobbing his head like it was a rock or rap song, which was weird considering it was actually a very soft, folksy sort of tune...

And it wasn't like Arthur could just _ignore _him, since he was banging along with the soft beat of the music, drumming his fingers on the side of the taxi which he was pulled right up next to, completely ignoring the driver who kept honking the horn at him.

Looking out the window at the crazy wannabe bard/jester/rapper, Arthur made a face of total disgust, then told the driver to please for the love of God take an alternate route.

Poor though he now was, he didn't care if he had to pay extra. It would be worth it to get away from the nagging doubts that perhaps Merlin was right. That maybe he shouldn't be marrying Mithian.

Stupid Merlin. This was all _his_ fault. Everything had been perfectly all right until he opened his big mouth and said Gwen's name in the toast!

GWEN WAS ENJOYING the party her brother Elyan had arranged for her, but she wished Lancelot would hang out more with her and her friends instead of going off to talk to his band-mates in the new-age music group he was in. She understood that it was important to him, but this was all set up by her brother, and most of her friends were here, if only Lancelot would be willing to spend a little more time with them. But he was always too busy being noble, rescuing his band-mates, or their distant family members a hundred times removed, from this or that impeding doom. It was always _something_.

So, instead of spending this celebratory party with her fiance, she was basically just sitting around talking with her best girlfriend Sefa, a quiet mousy girl who went to the nearby university, at a table, sipping a drink, just like they might do in her kitchen any other day.

A beautiful, dark haired girl in a tan trenchcoat with a crest that looked like a black panther with wings on the right-hand sleeve walked up to their table, looking a little disorientated, like she wasn't sure she was even at the right party. "There you are, Sefa."

"Oh, Gwen," said Sefa, getting up and standing next to the girl. "This is Freya Lake. She's a friend from the university. I hope you don't mind my inviting her."

"No, not at all," Gwen said quickly, reaching out to shake her hand. "Lovely to meet you. I'm Guinevere Leondegrance."

"The bride to be," Freya commented.

"That's right."

"Where's the groom?"

"Oh, Lancelot's off somewhere." Gwen rolled her eyes.

"I know how you feel." Freya looked down. "I hardly ever see my husband."

Gwen looked puzzled.

"He lives in England," Sefa explained, putting an arm around Freya consolingly. "She's here for classes, but he couldn't come with her. He's taking care of an elderly mentor and he's going to be the best man at a wedding really soon. There's no chance of him even coming out for a visit for several months at least."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Gwen, deeply sympathetic.

Freya shrugged sadly. "It's not your fault. Sometimes I think I should have never left. I could have stayed with him, but I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, even if it kept us apart."

"Well, I don't know if it'll help, but go ahead and have a free drink at the bar, on me," Gwen offered.

"Where _is_ the bar?" Freya asked.

The room was packed, not to mention kind of smokey, as if someone had accidentally left a fog machine running; it was hard to pin-point exact locations.

"Sefa, why don't you show her?"

"Sure." Her arm still around Freya, she pulled her away. "Come along. They have some of the _best _wines and cocktails I've _ever _tasted."

"Enjoying your party, Gwen?" Elyan came up behind her, his arm around his girlfriend Lamia, a dark haired, snaky-eyed girl.

"Yes, this is wonderful, Elyan," Gwen told him.

"You _are_ happy, then?"

"Very. Father would be so proud of you." They had lost their father shortly after Gwen's one and only meeting with Arthur, those five years ago. "You do so much for me. Some would say _too_ much."

"It's my pleasure," Elyan assured her sweetly.

"You know he's only being nice because he wants you to let us house-sit for you while you and Lancelot go jetting off to a thousand and one places, wedding planning and then straight to Italy for your honeymoon," Lamia cut in, only half joking.

Elyan sighed and rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Lamia. You know, I _was_ going to ask her when she was drunk."

"There's no need for that," Gwen laughed. "I would be delighted if you both wanted to spend some time at my house while Lancelot and I were away. Better than it just being empty. And we needed someone to take in our mail anyway."

"Woo-hoo!" cheered Elyan, pumping his fist in the air.

Lamia let go of his arm, spun around twice, apparently quite giddy, and hugged him excitedly.

Watching her brother and Lamia rush off, all happy about house-sitting, their guest of honour temporarily forgotten, Gwen noticed that Sefa had left some money on the table.

This included a five pound note.

Could it be?

She knew she shouldn't check, but she did.

And there was nothing. It wasn't the note she'd had Arthur write down his number on.

Part of her was a little relieved, but also sad at the same time. Would she always be asking herself _What If_?

ARTHUR SCRAMBLED UP the stairs to Merlin's flat. The door wasn't locked, so there was no need to get out his keys; he turned the knob and let himself in.

Unfortunately, he was met with a rather disturbing sight. No, it wasn't anything important -like their toaster, fridge, or newly installed water filter- being repossessed (that _had _happened before); it was far, _far_ worse.

Gaius and Merlin were doing karaoke.

They had gotten the blasted machine hooked up to the television (although Arthur had_ repeatedly_ lied and said it was impossible, totally and absolutely incompatible with their telly model, just so they _wouldn't_) and were singing _Don't Go Breaking My Heart_.

Or, rather, Gaius was just _saying_ the lyrics in a dull monotone voice, like he was reciting an extremely dry poem, and_ Merlin_ was the only one actually singing.

"_Don't go breaking my heart_," Merlin sang, holding out the microphone to Gaius as the colour on the screen changed, indicating a duet.

"I...couldn't if...I...tried," Gaius read, squinting.

Merlin pushed a button that made the lit up lyrics a little bigger and easier to read. "_Oh, honey if I get restless..._"

"Baby, you're not that kind." Gaius was still squinting, but he was getting a bit more into it, at least, sort of nodding his head to the music.

"_Oooooowhoooooo_," Merlin belted out. "_Nobody knows it..._"

Arthur, watching, horrified, in the doorway, shut the door behind himself and announced, "And this is why I can't bring people over."

"Arthur." Merlin turned off the music and handed Gaius the microphone. "You're early. I thought you'd be out all day."

"You didn't get a haircut," added Gaius, stating the obvious as he tossed the microphone aside onto the futon behind him.

Folding his arms across his chest, Arthur snapped, "I'm on the verge of a mental breakdown, so if you're _quite finished_, Merlin, I need to talk to you." He glanced at Gaius. "_Alone_. Sorry, Gaius."

"I can see when I'm not wanted." Gaius grabbed his coat and walked out of the flat.

"So, what's wrong?" asked Merlin, once they were alone.

"Kitchen," said Arthur, walking over that way. "I think I need to sit down."

Sitting down at the kitchen table, Arthur had hoped he would feel more at ease, but he didn't. Not really. Everything was still seriously a mess. Guinevere was still everywhere. Even just looking at Merlin as he took a seat across from him was reminding him of Gwen. He'd met them both on the same night.

"All right," said Merlin, somewhat mock-seriously. "I'm here to help you with your quarter-life crisis. Let's begin with some psychoanalyst." He held up an imaginary clipboard and cleared his throat dramatically. "And how do you _feel_ about that, Mr. Pendragon?"

Arthur frowned. "Merlin, what've we said about you trying to be funny?"

"I shouldn't." He smiled sheepishly.

"Now, back to the problem at hand."

"Which _is_?"

"Guinevere."

"What about her?"

"Only that's she's _everywhere_!" He threw up his hands in exasperation.

Merlin's forehead crinkled. "What?"

"She was at the hospital," Arthur began, "she's a big girl now, like Mary. Then I have to make do without a haircut because Gwen's going to cut my hair. Next thing I know, I'm in a taxi, being serenaded about dying in love with Guinevere!"

"Arthur." Merlin reached across the table and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You realize there _are_ medications you can take to get rid of these paranoid delusions."

Arthur shrugged his hand away. "I'm _telling _you, Merlin, the universe keeps revealing her to me. It's like my life is stuck on auto-play and it keeps going over the same bit until I want to throw myself off a bridge!"

"Don't do that," Merlin advised him. "That would be messy."

"Thanks for that," Arthur snapped sarcastically, "because I was literally about to call an information hotline and ask for the location of the nearest bridge."

"All right, all right. But what about Mithian?"

"I don't know." Arthur shook his head. "All I do know, is I have got to find Guinevere, if only to reassure myself she's _not_ everything I'm remembering. And I can't do it alone. I can't order you, as my best man, to help me find another girl so soon before my wedding, but I can't do this alone. I need your help. Can I count on it?"

"Yeah." Merlin nodded, half-smiling encouragingly. "I'm in."

"Great." Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. "Let's get started."


End file.
